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Official Website

Nearby Subway Stops

Prices

$7-$9

Payment Methods

American Express, Discover, MasterCard, Visa

Special Features

Delivery

Take-Out

Delivery after 10pm

Alcohol

Beer and Wine Only

Profile

This venue is closed.

If a pizza-dough sandwich is made in a shop
where there’s no pizza oven, is it a panuozzo? That was the
philosophical thought puzzle that presented itself to the Underground
Gourmet after a visit to San Matteo Panuozzo, a tiny new takeout spot on
St. Marks Place. If you’re up on the U.G. archives,
you might recall that a panuozzo is like a supersize panino. It’s made
from pizza dough that’s shaped into a loaf, tossed into the oven, fished
out, sliced lengthwise, layered with various fillings, then shoveled
back into the oven for a minute or so to allow all the flavors to meld.
It’s said to have originated in Gragnano, outside of Naples, and along
with an increase in the demand for tailors who specialize in taking out
the waistbands of pants, the panuozzo was an inevitable consequence of
the Neapolitan pizza boom of recent years.

Similarly styled pizza-dough ­sandwiches going under various aliases may be found on the menus at Kesté, Don Antonio by Starita, La Montanara, and Naples 45,
but perhaps no one has done more to popularize the Southern Italian
specialty than San Matteo, the snug pizzeria that opened about a year
and a half ago on the Upper East Side. To capitalize on the sandwich’s
crusty appeal, San Matteo’s owners recently transplanted the concept to
the East Village, where they’ve dedicated an entire shop to it.
Furnished with mementos of the owners’ Campanian hometown, Salerno (not
Gragnano, but close enough), and sundry Italian imports arrayed on the
shelves, San Matteo Panuozzo has everything you’d ­expect in a
pizza-dough-­sandwich shop. Except, that is, the pizza oven. The
wood-fired bread, you see, is baked fresh daily uptown, then delivered
to the East Village, where it’s split open and assembled to order, then
run through a deluxe-model conveyor-belt toaster of the type you see in
high-­volume delis that traffic in toasted bagels. Though less
atmospheric, the method gets the job done, crisping up the loaf’s edges
and reviving the flavorful bread’s moist and creamy crumb. It sounds
weird, but the texture reminds us a little of a good English muffin, and
as English-muffin fans, that’s meant as a compliment.

Of the eleven panuozzo combinations available, we’re partial
to the Di Bartolomei, which layers paper-thin slices of roast pork with
fresh mozzarella and peppery arugula to delicious effect, and the
big-flavored Alla Pancetta, which mingles a salty dry-cured and rolled
version of the Italian bacon with super-smoky buffalo mozzarella. The
Mortadella e Melanzane (mortadella sausage, marinated eggplant, and the
aforementioned smoked mozz) is pretty good too. In spite of the
preponderance of pork, vegetarians aren’t regarded as a culinary
subspecies. In fact, four meatless sandwiches riff on a mozzarella theme
(housemade with eggplant and peppers; smoked buffalo mozzarella in an
eggplant parm; truffle-oil-drizzled burrata; and a classic caprese).

These panuozzi are hefty and filling, ­although constructed
in the minimalist Italian fashion, and served with an enthusiastic
smile. To round out the experience, there’s gelato and tiramisu made
on-premises, plus the sort of good Italian espresso that predates the
Single-Origin Light-Roast Revolution. Altogether, the shop lends a
welcome touch of European civility to a bar-glutted block, and advances
Neapolitan-pizza culture, even absent the oven. — Robin Raisfeld & Rob Patronite